


Babies are not cats (cats are easy)

by otatop



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Kid Fic, M/M, Protective Andrew Minyard, andrew with babies, neil afraid of babies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-16 10:20:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21034676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/otatop/pseuds/otatop
Summary: A drabble vaguely about Andrew and Neil taking care of Aaron and Katelyn's twin babies when they get the flu.





	Babies are not cats (cats are easy)

**Author's Note:**

> yes it's halloween, yes i accidentally wrote a christmas story ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Neil peaked through the crack of the door, standing at a practiced angle so as to not cast a shadow into the dark room. At the late hour, after the weekend they’d had, he was unsurprised to see Andrew so exhausted. What was surprising was his completely relaxed posture. Neil had been sure, given everything he knew about Andrew, that he would be on high alert for the duration of their stay. Their invasion.

Yet there he was, reclined in a glider, head tilted back, eyes closed, and one hand securing a tiny baby to his chest. He wasn’t asleep. Neil could tell because his mouth was closed and his thumb was soothing against the baby’s back. Also because of the quiet sound he was making.

“What are you doing?” Neil whispered. He had to ask, because he wanted to understand, but part of him hoped he’d been too quiet to be heard. An answer meant being engaged. Being engaged risked being drawn in. 

“Lacy woke up,” Andrew said, no louder than the soft sound he was making. Neil's burnt out brain tried to make sense of it.

“Are you… purring?”

Andrew cracked open an eye and found it in himself to muster up a judgemental look. “I’m  _ humming _ .”

Oh. That made much more sense. Neil missed their cats…

“Why?’

“It’s what Aaron does for them.”

“Is that… something babies need?” That didn’t sound right but he didn’t know enough about babies to say otherwise. He liked leaning on Andrew when they talked. Was that some leftover infant instinct?

“They’re not  _ cats _ , Neil. No, they don’t need it.”

A small relief.

Feeling bold and needy with exhaustion, Neil came into the nursery. Instead of sitting in the empty glider next to the other crib, he crouched down at Andrew’s side. Lacy was sound asleep cradled between Andrew’s bicep and hand. Neil didn’t understand why Andrew hadn’t put her back in the crib yet but he couldn’t say he minded the view (even though he did mind the empty guest bed).

Across the hall, Katelyn broke down into a coughing fit. Despite being muffled by the Lysoled towels Andrew had stuffed into the bottom crack, the jarring noise was enough. A high, grumpy gurgling started from the other crib.

“Time to face your fears,” Andrew mumbled. Neil frowned in confusion before dread had him awake and alert. He looked to the sleeping baby in Andrew’s arms, to the crib, to Andrew’s face. The bastard had his eyes closed. Relaxed. Neil was anything but.

“Andrew. Andrew  _ no _ . What the fuck? Andrew  _ help _ .”

The noises started to sound more like cries.

“Pick her up before she awakes Lacy again.”

“I don’t know how to pick up a  _ baby _ .”

“Carefully.”

“That’s not  _ helpful _ .”

“Support her head.”

Neil stood over Penelope’s crib and braced himself. Adrenaline opened his veins and eyes and he was aware but not brave. Not ready.

But she looked so upset, all red and squishy-faced, and Neil would rather step on a nail than let that go on. He reached down with both hands and wrapped them behind her shoulders so his fingers held her head up. That’s what it looked like when Andrew had done it. Was it right? Why was she so light? Why was she so heavy? Why hadn’t she stopped crying yet?

“Maybe if you stopped holding her like a bomb…” Andrew slurred helpfully. The advice made sense in his head, but in practice it wasn’t so easy. She was so… so  _ tiny _ . By the time he got her tucked to his chest like Andrew, he thought he might sweat through his shirt. 

“I don’t like this,” he whispered. The act. Not the baby.

“You don’t have to like it, you just have to do it.” 

Another muffled cough came across the hall, this time from Aaron. Andrew very carefully did not react but Neil knew how anxious he was. Their holiday plans had turned from a big home game and movies by the tree to taking a scratch and flying to Chicago. Neil had never seen so much tension wound up in Andrew’s body before, his face blank but tight, arms and back constantly tense. 

Neither of them liked this, but they had to do it.

“How long does the flu last?” Neil whispered. He settled himself into the other glider and patted Penelope’s back awkwardly in hopes that it would soothe her grumblings.

“Varies. They caught it quick and got the good shit so it shouldn’t be very long.”

Like babies, Neil didn’t know enough about the flu to do anything but trust and hope. Not that he didn’t like the twins, quite the opposite really, but he liked to be baby  _ adjacent _ and not directly responsible for them. He liked to watch Exy while he bopped their bouncers with his feet. (Andrew had rolled his eyes at them as he walked by with an armful of groceries and aerosol disinfectant.)

It took time, but Penelope eventually quieted like her sister. Neil adjusted their position until his arms were comfortable, secure, and listened to Andrew's humming. He didn’t recognize the song, but it was repetitive and soothing. His voice was always soothing.

He woke up alone with a sweatshirt nudged under his crooked neck. The room was dark enough to be disorienting but the sliver of light between the curtains suggested a bright morning. Neil heaved himself from the chair with a groan and a stretch so he could follow the smell of syrup down the hall. The smell wasn’t the only thing to greet him, there was the grainy sounds of a Christmas radio station and the sight of Andrew bouncing a baby in his arms.

“Merry Christmas,” Neil said in lieu of good morning. Andrew bounced to turn and came close enough for Neil to kiss the side of his head. “How long have you been up?” It didn’t escape his notice that there was a stack of pancakes finished and two infants changed and cared for.

“Long enough. Take breakfast to the living room.”

Breakfast was next to a stack of four place settings. Neil brought it all to the living room and put it onto the coffee table right in front of where Aaron and Katelyn were propping each other up on the couch. They looked like death warmed over. Barely.

“I’m surprised Andrew let you out,” he said. It was true, especially after the way Andrew had all but barricaded them into the master bedroom with a case of gatorade, a dozen soup cans, and the microwave from the kitchen. 

“We’re not contagious anymore, just miserable. I will stab you both before I miss my babies’ first Christmas,” Katelyn said. Andrew came in holding both girls and raised an appreciative eyebrow. Years, motherhood, and the flu and she was finally somebody Andrew wouldn’t immediately stab back. Or first. He settled the girls on either side of the couch, propped with their special pillows and looking far too cute in their reindeer onesies. Neil noticed that Katelyn and Aaron were also in their own matching pajamas. He supposed this  _ would _ be considered a big day for them.

Neil dished out the pancakes onto the plates and arranged them in a way he thought looked nice. He didn’t have an artistic eye but his phone had a decent camera. The first picture was of sleeping parents and two babies with identical smiles. Neil couldn’t see what Andrew was doing but the two high pitched shrieks broke the quiet. Aaron and Katelyn startled to alertness with varying garbled exclamations. 

“You better get a  _ good _ photo, too,” Aaron grumbled.

“Then move. You’re in the short,” Andrew said, pulling out his own phone and getting in close with Penelope. She clumsily slapped at him with a spitty fist.

Andrew smiled.

Neil took another picture.


End file.
